But if her days were evil, oh! what were her nights? She lived in
constant terror lest he should again drug her food or drink, and, while
she slept, throw his magic spell upon her. To protect herself from the
first danger she would swallow nothing that had been near him. Now also
she slept in the hut with her father, who lay near its door, a loaded
rifle at his side, for he had told Jacob outright that if he caught him
at his practices he would shoot him, a threat at which the younger man
laughed aloud, for he had no fear of Mr. Clifford.
Throughout the long hours of darkness they kept watch alternately, one
of them lying down to rest while the other peered and listened. Nor
did Benita always listen in vain, for twice at least she heard stealthy
footsteps creeping about the hut, and felt that soft and dreadful
influence flowing in upon her. Then she would wake her father,
whispering, "He is there, I can feel that he is there." But by the time
that the old man had painfully dragged himself to his feet--for now he
was becoming very feeble and acute rheumatism or some such illness had
got hold of him--and crept from the hut, there was no one to be seen.
Only through the darkness he would hear the sound of a retreating step,
and of low, mocking laughter.
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